Breathe in the Dead
by Jayfish
Summary: The 1st Hunger Games. The beginning of the end. And for 23 tributes, it will be the end. The end of life, love, and happiness. Watch them fight, and watch them burn, and watch them die. Breathe in the dead. *SYOT CLOSED* Story being written by Jayfish AND jakey121 AND Acereader55
1. Fresh Cup of Blood

**Nora Erukla  
****District Nine  
****Written By: Jayfish**

I can feel the steady thumping against the inside of my abdomen. _Kick, kick, kick, _a sluggish tempo that suggests the creature within is confined by my own visceral fluids. But I can feel the kicking and I know it is alive. My breathing is shallow as I lie prostrate on the molding couch, my hand spread flat over my abdomen.

_Kick, kick, kick._

There is an electric buzz from the television set and I raise my head. We have been inside, in our darkened houses, for nearly three weeks. No food has been provided but the food we have stockpiled. I understand that any citizen caught roaming the streets will be shot on sight.

Nausea rises in my throat but I swallow until it goes away. I can't afford to be ill now. My husband is gone, bunkered in another's home, perhaps, but it is more than likely he is dead. Thinking of my husband, sweet, gentle Mason, is enough to bring the tears to my eyes. But the hand that rises to my cheeks to wipe the tears away is weak and trembling.

The television buzzes again. After everything District Nine has gone through, the bombs and fire and influenza that spread among our ranks like a plague, it is a miracle that my television still functions. But when I press the button that should spring it to life, I see only static.

_We're all going to die, _I think, and close my eyes tightly. If I listen, I can hear the stamp of boots against the ground, the crackle that suggests fire. A baby's pathetic wail. Instinctively, my hand tightens on the shiny flesh at my stomach. _My baby, _I think, eyes wide with panic. _My little one. _

But after a few frightened moments, I can feel that shifting deep inside me and I know it's alright. I push my damp hair away from my forehead and lean back against the couch. _It's alright, _I tell myself, chanting the words in my head. _It's alright, it's alright, it's alright. _

The television sparks and flares to life.

I press into the couch, trembling violently. The Capitol is not known for its tact because I am looking into a pair of dead eyes. Blood trickles from the corner of one eye and trails down the cheek of a man who must be a rebel. He is dead, so dead, with his mouth gaping open. I can see blood staining his pearl white teeth.

The shot moves outwards, and I realize that all that is left of the unfortunate rebel is his head. He has been impaled on a pike, and the further out we zoom, the more I take in. Hundreds upon hundreds of pikes form a crude circle around a large courtyard. Blood drips onto paving stones.

"Shh, shh," I whisper, although there's no one to shush but myself. "Shh." And I have to calm down, because I've begun to whimper. Such might, such raw power glares at me through the screen. How could we hope to win against this majesty? Why did we even try?

The cameras zoom in on the slim woman standing on the balcony. Her face is devoid of emotion, and her lips are redder than the tongues and teeth of the rebels that hang all around her. I recognize that placid face. This is not President Markova that stands before us, but the new president whose name I cannot remember. Feeling like a fool, I wrap my arm around my abdomen, shielding the place where I imagine my unborn child's eyes to be.

"Districts of Panem," the president says quietly. "Look at what you have done."

A shot of District Thirteen's smoldering ruins flashes onscreen. Then there is a pile of bodies, burning and choking the air with smoke and ash and dead flesh. A child's doll lies in the mud, dripping not with rainwater but the dark red blood of its owner.

"You have bitten the hand that fed you," the president says icily. "You have risen up against your caretakers, the ones that protected you and clothed you and allowed you to love and be loved." Her voice has taken on a dangerous, twisted tone. "You have killed thousands! You have allowed thousands to be killed for a cause you don't even understand!"

She pauses to compose herself. The surrounding area is silent, save for the droplets of blood pattering off of severed necks.

"Rebellion," whispers our president. "Rebellion against what? What exactly where you trying to accomplish?! Our country is in ruins. District Thirteen has been destroyed and the remaining districts are hardly better off. You have gambled. You have lost." She is white faced and her eyes are darkened. "Now you must pay us what you owe us."

Her eyes bore into mine. I feel as though she is staring into my soul, and I don't know what she thinks of what she sees. "Please," I whisper, as though the voice of one woman in a dark house a thousand miles away can make any sort of difference. "Please, don't kill us all." Because I can imagine that they will. They will send the bombs into every district, and they will watch us burn and they will laugh.

"Every one of us has lost someone," the president continues. "A husband." I blink and the tears manage to slip past my restraining fingers. "A wife. A lover. A friend… A child. There have been catastrophic losses on both sides. As the winning side, the final death toll rests with us. The Capitol." She breathes in deeply. "We could burn every district to the ground. You deserve nothing less. But we are a merciful people."

She's not going to kill us. I moan in relief and my head tips back against the sagging couch. "Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you thank you thank you."

"You will be punished," she says, and her voice is low and dark. "You have taken from us, and we will take from you. We have provided you protection in exchange for production. But you have taken our people. And so we will take yours, and we will be entertained."

A screen is falling down the face of the building behind her. A white, rippling screen, and as I watch, a picture is projected onto its surface. "The Hunger Games," it reads, and a child with a backpack rests below. The girl's face is shocked and terrified, and she looks as though she is running desperately.

"Every year, into the foreseeable future, each district will send one male and one female between the ages of 12 and 18 to the Capitol. There they will be prepared, and airlifted into a remote arena."

_Arena, _I think. _I don't understand. Will they kill the children? _My stomach tightens.

"Twenty-four will go in," says the president. "But only one will come out, the supreme Victor of the Games."

_I don't understand, _I repeat, but I don't think I want to.

"Only one may come out," the president repeats. "Twenty-three children will die. To be the Victor…"

She pauses, and it is as though I can hear her breathing.

"You must kill the others."

In a house across the way, I can hear a scream. A baby's wail joins in, and then I can hear muted sobbing and a hysterical screech. I am frozen. I am rigid against the couch, one hand clutching the armrest for support.

_You must kill the others._

"NO!" I scream, wishing for nothing more than the ability to move properly. With my swollen belly, I can barely stand without help. "NO!" My throat is raw, but I continue, helpless. "NO, NO, NO!"

Children. They can't. They can't do this. It's wrong, it's depraved. _Entertainment, she said. How is this entertaining?_

She has been talking, and I clench my teeth together and attempt to listen. "… broadcasted throughout Panem. Viewing will be mandatory. Every death will be filmed in glorious detail."

"You twisted woman," I whisper. I've bitten my lip so hard that I can taste blood in my mouth, wet and metallic. "You sick, twisted creature."

"Is this what you wanted, districts?!" she shouts, startling me into silence. "You knew the risk, and you took it. Be thankful that we have not annihilated every last man, woman, and child! We offered you peace and prosperity, and you dared to spurn it. Now we allow you to live. Know that you will receive no second chances. In the event of a second rebellion, destruction will be absolute. You will not survive."

Her voice is convincing and powerful. I tremble in my chair. Inside me, I can imagine my baby quivering.

"It'll be alright," I whisper, but my voice cracks at the end. My child. Will they take my child? It is only a baby, not even born. _Into the foreseeable future, _she said. _Every year._

My baby. When it is old enough, perhaps they will take my baby. And then, a similar baby from a different district will kill it. And then another baby will kill _it._

I scream. I clutch at my throat and scream until my voice turns thin and withers into nothing. I am not the only one having this reaction. I can hear the screaming, the wailing, the groans of terror. I can hear a child whimpering, and I sob, tears flowing hot and fast down my cheeks. I rock, determined to move in some way. But it jostles the equilibrium in the deep places of my body, and I freeze until everything settles and I can breathe again.

"The reapings begin in June," our president promises. "Prepare yourselves for our retribution. For we are mighty, and you are weak, and you must learn this. Those who withstand the Capitol will not be allowed to survive."

The television, with a tiny burst of static, goes black.

"Mason," I whimper, mucus collecting at my nostrils. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. "Where are you, Mason?" My sweet, strong husband would know what to do. He would know how to save me. He would know how to save the little one.

"Mason!" The name tears itself from my lips. I'm on my feet, hobbling towards the door. I wrench it open and stumble into the blackness outside. Despite the horror enveloping the people of District Nine, they remain bolted in their houses, like they've been ordered. I can hear them shrieking, though. Crying and screaming like I am.

Stubbornly, I shake my head. It's only background noise. I have to be focused. I have to find him, my Mason. He will help me through this.

I'm walking away from the house in a drunken path. All around me there is chaos and death. Burnt bodies clog the streets, some with bloody noses and torn eyes from the virus that decimated us. I force myself to look away as the twisted body of a child crunches underneath my sandaled feet.

The square. That's where I'm going, the square. If Mason is anywhere, he will be there. He will not have stayed locked within a house, waiting quietly for death and horror. He will be out on the streets, shrieking death and retribution on the Capitol, or hiding in wait for me.

I turn the corner and take a step. And then the horror takes me and I lean over and vomit up the few meager ounces of grain I'd managed to devour.

The square is overflowing with the melting bodies of the dead. A fire still rages in one corner, but most of the corpses have been put out. By what, I can't tell. Maybe the rain put the fires to rest, but it isn't raining.

The corpses are barely recognizable. I wade through the destruction and feel the fibers holding me together snapping and splintering. I trip on something, a hand maybe, and crash to the ground. My knees support me and keep my swollen belly from touching the ground.

I am looking into a motionless pair of brown eyes. They are eyes I recognize.

I reach out and brush what remains of Mason's hair out of his face. His lips and jaw are both gone. His tongue flops uselessly against the pavement.

"You!" The voice is one that I know. I remain where I am, crouched over Mason's disfigured body. Tears running down my cheeks, I am nothing more than a frightened animal. _Shot on sight. Shot on sight. _"Stand up!"

I stand, despite the pain wracking my frame. Although not ordered to, I turn around. Davian's gun is pointed at me from across the square, his face harsh and pained at once. Four Peacekeepers stand behind him, guns protruding from between their fingers like claws.

"Hold your position," says Davian, soothingly. One of his men gives him a questioning look and he scowls. "She's pregnant," he barks. "We're not going to shoot her."

I take a step forward and he turns back to me. "Don't move!"

The wind whistles in my ears. I feel lightheaded and faint. I take another step.

"Stop!"

Another step. Another.

The bullet tears into my stomach. The pain brings me to a shuddering halt. Inside me, there is no movement. Nothing.

But maybe it's for the better.

The next bullet is for my forehead, and the fear and the pain and the horror put me to sleep. A lullaby of perversity.

* * *

**'Allo, 'allo, il mia nome e Jayfish!**

**Don't think that's a real language. Huh.**

**Anyway, hi hi hi! Welcome to this (hopefully) wonderful SYOT, written by myself, the crushingly average Jayfish, and Jake, the MOST AMAZING PERSON ON THIS SITE GIVE HIM YOUR LOVE GAHHH~**

**Before I let you go, I have some things I'd like to tell you. Please, please PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF THE GOOD LORD. Do not submit a tribute in a review. You may send us a tribute through PM (either PM myself or Jake, whose penname is jakey121.) If you submit it in a review, I WILL KILL YOU.**

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**Also, please note that this is indeed the first Hunger Games. There are no Careers yet. No training, no Careers, etc. Please keep that in mind when creating your tributes!**

**Form is at the bottom.**

**Now I really will let you go to enjoy the far superior section of this prologue :) JAKE'S BIT AWWW YESHHH.**

* * *

**Gala Barrister  
Capitol  
Written By: jakey121**

The story of the rebellion will be told, the truth warped into exaggerated lies, far into the future. How countless men, women and children fled their costly homes to flee the darkness of the Capitol as the Districts shot and bombed their way through their streets. How the Capitol in retaliation rose with anger clear in their hearts and minds and laid waste upon the Districts, completely decimating the last of them all.

Thirteen was a place of peace yet it was rather dull, to see the end of it was more of a blessing than a curse yet for the Districts it was a sign that the Capitol; no matter how many men they threw at them and how many times they tried to take control, would rise above and destroy each District with no mercy in their hearts.

The President of Panem had lost his seat of authority and disappeared from everyone's eyes. Even I, Gala Barrister, have yet to see him for these past few months. The whispers are he died and his bones are buried deep beneath the President's Mansion. Other spiders with their webs of lies tell a story of the President now living in a District far off, somewhere like Twelve as a miner, his family living in a dirty little hut with scarcely any food on the table.

I do not believe these tales of death and mining, I do not know the truth behind our previous ruler's disappearance but I believe for sure he is still alive. Plotting perhaps his revenge upon the Capitol. Another rebellion may come again one day, maybe he would be the cause.

His hatred for the Capitol was no secret, when he was dragged from his post kicking and screaming, his personal guards cut down and left to bleed crimson upon the marbled floor he swore vile words about our city, vengeance clear in his tone. If any man was to pose as a threat to the renewed Capitol, finally strong after the rebellion, it would be him.

Our new President is a woman of beauty. Raven hair left to flow in waves down her back, pale skin made even paler with white powder. Her lips are the most startling of her features, blood red and dripping slightly with the colour as if she had drank a fresh cup of blood at every meal. Her haunting appearance wasn't the only layer to our President. There is the layer of her unrelenting anger towards the Districts, the sheer will to rip them apart with her bare hands and watch every man, woman and child scream with anguish as she murdered each and every one of them.

Her son; Teevan; had been a front line solider putting a stop in the rebellion in Two and managing to defeat the front line in Three but it had not been enough to halt the bullet that tore through his helmet and ripped his handsome face. He had been a thing of beauty to match his jolly mother but when his body had been returned the woman who used to be such a happy thing changed into who we know her as now. Perhaps, and as sad as it is to say, her son's death was a blessing in disguise. President Ciara Ocalan will be our saviour and it is with great joy I find myself outside her door. I, Gala Barrister, shall be her Head Gamemaker for this new proposal that was finalized these past few months.

She calls it The Hunger Games. Details were kept strictly between herself and her darling sister who sits as heir to her position should she die before another son or daughter is born. Two months ago I was brought into this inner circle of secrets and this Hunger Games was described to me and I can honestly say, hand on my heart, our dearest President has struck gold.

The Districts never cut down anyone I held dear except perhaps for Teevan but I seldom spoke to him except for grand events held in the Mansion. Regardless of whether I lost someone close, thousands upon thousands lost friends and family and to see Ciara with such hollow eyes has instilled my desire for revenge upon the Districts and The Hunger Games are just how to go about this revenge.

What better way to go about gaining our vengeance then forcing twenty four children, tender children who never did anything wrong in this rebellion except live where they did, to fight against one another until a sole victor remained. Further meetings had told me these children were to be called Tributes. A splendid name for those we would pull apart and ruin in this Arena we have had to prepare quickly.

I am filled with gratefulness that Ciara thought to ask me. We were always close as kids growing up, but then we split apart for years as her parents took her away. To know she still trusts me enough to give me this position of such high authority is enough to make me happy for years to come. The closest I will get to being able to repay this honour she has given me will be to make sure the first ever Hunger Games are a show to make the Capitol scream with glee at seeing the Districts tremble, and the Districts themselves quake with fear wishing they had never turned their guns on us.

"Come in Gala."

Her voice cuts through the red wood of her office door before my knuckles even manage to rap lightly upon the surface. My smile is not at all fake as I grasp the golden handle and push the door open, staring into her high office and allowing my eyes to fall upon the face of President Ocalan. Her face is lit up with a friendly smile which I find most pleasing yet her eyes are dead and empty. As Teevan died, those eyes died. A part of me died.

"The escorts have been chosen ma'am, the reaping bowls prepared and the mayors prepped on what to say at this Reaping."

"Splendid news, they will rue the day they ever set foot upon our soil and set to end us. I hope necessary plans have been put into place for the Arena? I know you have the Arena already built and ready but we need to make the first ever Hunger Games truly splendid and I gave you that list not three days ago that told you specific… let's say presents for the tributes, to be put into place and readily await their presence."

I suddenly felt rather frightened at the cold stare she gives to me betraying the sweet smile pulling at her lips. She loves me like a brother, I know that much, but she will not allow her grand idea to be put to shame if I were to fail her. My head will join the hundreds on spikes around the Capitol courtyard, the heads of rebels that had been executed to the screams for blood from our beloved Capitol citizens.

"Do not worry yourself President, everything is ready and I assure you people will squeal with terror at what he have in place. As you say, the first ever Hunger Games cannot be anything less than perfect."

"You were always good to me Gala. A good friend and like a brother. I am sad that we lost all those years, I hope you do not fail me. I need this to work and you are my appointed Head Gamemaker. The blame will lie solely at your door if this was to all crumble and shame me. If this fails we may just face another rebellion from the Districts sometime in the future once they gather their strength back-"

"Ma'am, they are unable to. We have such security posted at every post all over the Districts." I interrupt without thinking.

"Sorry, I do not mean to be rude."

"Do not apologise. But my dear Gala you do not see the whispers going on behind closed doors and the rebels plotting and gathering their strength as the Peacekeepers drink and feed their oversized mouths."

"If a rebellion was to happen we will crush them like we crushed them before. Do not worry yourself President."

"I worry Gala. I worry for the lives we will lose even if we were to win. I lost Teevan, who's to say I won't lose my own life if the Districts were ever to come fighting on our streets again."

"That ma'am will never happen. The Districts are nothing as of now and these Hunger Games of yours will forever put them in their place."

"Your optimism is appreciated and I hope it is not misplaced." Her smile falters slightly and she sighs as she leans further into her leather chair. Behind her through the window that overlooks the Capitol the sun is setting and the Capitol comes alive with the parties that would surely leave beer kegs empty. We have been a sad city for so long, it is good to see their spirits reignited. All the more reason these Hunger Games are perfection. So many problems solved with this idea.

"As the sun sets so must I Gala. Goodnight friend, I hope to see you tomorrow around noon."

"I shall be on time, have a pleasant sleep ma'am."

She smiles once more at me and takes her leave through the door to the left. I don't linger too long, only sparing a moment to look out the window and watch the Capitol's lights fill the night sky. Reds and blues mixed with yellows and pinks. All of them mean the Capitol is finally happy again, and once the first ever reaping begins the happiness is sure to reach new heights.

The corridor is rather dark and empty I note as I scurry as quickly as I can towards the top of the stairs. I descend as quickly as I can, seeing the portraits of past Presidents fitted in frames, and leave out the front door. My car is already ready and waiting, a man dressed purely in black opens the door and greets me but I do not reply. The need for sleep is finally overwhelming me, after working in the new Gamemaker's Control Room, built only a week ago in the foundations of where the CHQ used to stand. The Capitol Head Quarters was the main base for the soldiers to regroup and strategize, until it was bombed and thousands upon thousands perished as flames licked their bodies. Now, so close to the President's Mansion, myself and the other Gamemakers will work during the Games to toy with the tributes and bring forth all manner of nightmares upon them.

I barely manage a smile at the thought of truly terrifying the tributes. It will be a splendid thing to see but for now I must rest. Tomorrow is a long day, with more planning and the meeting with the President. Ciara is not a patient woman, not even for her sister and will not sit idly by and wait if I were to be late. To meet at noon is her way of saying meeting at ten or eleven. What she has planned for tomorrow's meeting I do not know but I shall attend it punctually.

"Where to Sir?" I only just realize the car has not taken off and lean deeper into my chair. The driver is a broad shouldered man with curly locks of golden hair. I remember him from during the fighting, back then he piloted some of the hovercrafts and now he drives the cars and the Head Gamemaker around. How does that make him feel?

"Home, and I'd rather I got there quickly. Someone gets in your way beep them and be quick about it."

The man nods and the car accelerates almost instantly. I feel sleep's dark tendrils slowly creeping up my body, inch by inch and three or four times before I find myself parked outside my house do my eyes close.

"Sir do you require assistance to your door?"

"Do you take me for a fool, I know how to walk a gravel pathway."

The man apologizes but I barely take note of it as I wait impatiently for him to open the door. He bids me goodnight which I don't return to him and when I finally find myself standing in the hallway of my house does the black car drive into the night.

Tomorrow is a long day, I repeat over and over in my head. But all this planning will be worth it.

The comfort of my bed is met with a smile on my face and as my body sinks lower and lower into the covers and cushions; the darkness of sleep taking over my body does the smile slowly get larger and larger as I slip into the realm of dreams.

The tributes don't know what is about to hit them. Oh, no. They really don't.

* * *

**Annnndddddd hello to everyone who has come across this. I feel honoured to be working with the amazing Jayfish on this story of the first ever Hunger Games! I am sure you guys will not be disappointed… maybe by my writing but definitely not by Jayfish's.**

**Guys… she's awesome… ;)**

**Anyway make sure to listen to Jay about the rules of not submitting a tribute via review. We want this to be legal my friends, we do not want anything to threaten this story.**

**Thank you for reading this, I hope you liked my little bit of the prologue and I am sure you loved Jayfish's part.**

**Until the reapings.**

**-Jake**


	2. Ecstasy and Agony

**Kenzie Erukla  
Capitol**

**Written By: Jayfish**

I have tried to bury myself in my work. Bury, it is a fitting word. There are so many to be buried, and this is something I can do to help.

The bodies. I prepare them, make them presentable. On some occasions, I make them look human again. I have seen mutilation. I have seen faces that are not faces, bodies missing parts. I fix them up and prepare them for burial or cremation, whichever the family prefers.

I hear that the war is over. It doesn't matter, at this point. I've seen things that I cannot forget. Warped flesh haunts my dreams. I don't sleep, not anymore. They have pills in the Capitol that help keep you functioning with little sleep. Most people use them for parties, but I use them to prevent myself from dropping dead.

I wish I was home. District Nine must be a living hell, but it was something. I was recognized early on in the war as an extremely skilled mortician, and they took me here, to this sunless vault below the earth. I have been issued an apartment, and a Capitol citizenship for life. It doesn't matter. I'd rather be anywhere but here.

My sister is dead. I saw it on television. There was a slow pan over the piles of bodies in the square, and there she was. Her belly was swollen from pregnancy, and there was a bullet hole in her skull. I remember that my hands twitched in my lap, as I imagined patching the hole, stretching the skin of the forehead over the ugly wound. Fixing my sister. I couldn't save her when she was alive, and now I won't even get the chance to fix her in death.

They make me work in an underground vault. The smell bothers Capitol citizens. I don't mind it. My white starched mask is stretched over my nose and mouth, and it mostly blocks out the stench.

The body in front of me is important, I've heard. _Don't mess it up, _hissed my supervisor. He hates me. I am clearly foreign, my body devoid of tattoos or dye. Apparently I have a hollow, district look about me. He constantly reminds me of this.

This was once a handsome man. His blonde hair has been washed and is now neatly pressed against his forehead. It is the center of his face that is the problem. It is clear that someone less skilled than I attempted to patch up a bullet wound that must have smashed his nose in. They did a bung job of it, and the patch has ruptured. When I lean close, formaldehyde makes my eyes water. Whoever did this to the poor boy was a fool.

An image of my sister's bloody forehead flickers in my mind, and I bend over the corpse in front of me and wield my scalpel and scissors. I gently pull apart skin that should never have been melded and rearrange it in a more natural way. The bridge of the nose was pieced back together shoddily; I remove it and painstakingly poke each tiny piece back into position with a pair of tweezers. By the time I've replaced the nose and sewed back the skin, my arms are trembling with exertion.

I take a step back and examine my handiwork. The man is almost as handsome as he once was. A thin line runs across the top of his upper lip and the bridge of his nose, but despite these scars, he is beautiful.

At least they preserved the body correctly. It is several months old, I can tell. In the districts, we are content to let bodies rot, but some Capitol people pay exorbitant amounts for bodies to be preserved forever. The chemicals it takes to make such a thing a reality are grossly expensive, but these people are willing to pay.

Whoever wanted this body fixed must be rich. I think I've done a good enough job to please them. Capitol grief seems wildly different than grief in the districts. Appearance of the body means a lot. But I am confident in my ability to please.

I turn to the speaker on the wall and press one gloved finger against the red button underneath it. "Body prepared," I exclaim, and wait a moment. There is a crackle of static, and then a voice wavers to life on the other end.

"Standby." This is an odd order. Generally I'm required to vacate the premises while my handiwork is examined. My client must be extraordinarily rich, really.

As I lean against the walls to wait, my back becomes icy cold. The metal is chilling. I imagine that I can see my breath in the still air. Every time I blink, an image flashes behind my eyelids. _Blink. _A little girl with red braids and even redder blood. _Blink. _A festering mass grave, covered in dirt and sorrow. _Blink. _My sister, her mouth open in an exclamation of ecstasy and agony. _Blink. Blink. Blink._

My eyes are watering when the door opens. Unwillingly, I turn. For a moment, I don't recognize the vision that wavers at the threshold. But then I _do _recognize her, and shock forces my jaw open. Ciara Ocalan. Madame President.

I consider bowing my head, but an age-old spark of defiance keeps me rigid in place. The President glances at me. Her eyes are dark and empty. She brushes past me as if I am some kind of insignificant insect. She'll squash me like a bug. She'll crush me until blood runs out of my mouth and nose and eyes.

Perhaps I am being dramatic, but this is the way the Erukla sisters have always been. We were a morbid little partnership. And now it seems that our morbidity was entirely justified. One of us is dead, and I sense that I will be joining my sister soon enough. Whether I'm terrified or relieved by that remains to be seen.

The President is poised by the boy's body. She runs her fingers across his pale cheek and closes her eyes. _Her son, _I realize, for this is surely the boy that everyone has been talking about. _And she chose me to fix him. _

She turns around suddenly, and the raw emotion in her black eyes keeps me from speaking. She has me pinned, and I can only blink when she steps towards me. "What is your name?" she asks me.

"Kenzie," I tell her. And then—"you killed my sister."

She looks back towards the boy's body. "Maybe I did," she says. "But you killed my son."

"Is he as beautiful as he used to be?" I ask her. She can only nod. Her hands flutter at the base of her collarbone. One tear leaks out of the corner of her left eye. She lets it drip onto her son's prone hand.

When she turns back to me, her eyes are dead and there is no sign of tears. "I was going to have you killed," she says. "I thought it would be ironic. The district mortician with no one to patch up her own corpse. But you've done me a great service."

I remain silent. There's nothing to say.

"Thank you," she exclaims suddenly, and she gives me a tiny smile. "Thank you for giving my son back to me. I executed the first mortician, you know. He was the perpetrator of that sorry excuse for a nose that you fixed."

Somehow, I manage to work my tongue. "Are you proud of that?"

She seems slightly surprised. "What a tongue you have," she sighs. "But you've lost everything, and you've given me the one thing I wanted. You won't die today. You won't die forever, as long as I have anything to say in the matter."

"One day," I tell her, "I'll die, whether you want me to or not. Everybody dies."

She smiles at that. "Yes," she agrees. "Everybody does." The smile slips away, and her expression becomes dark. "You've heard of the Games?"

"Yes." What an idea. It's sick, twisted. This woman must be very sick, deep inside, to come up with something like that.

"The bodies will need to be fixed before being sent back to their families," says the President. "I considered several people for the job. But I think I want you to do it. You'll have an entire team of surgeons and workers under you," she continues. "You'll be honored. I'll have posters issued. The Capitol will welcome you with open arms."

"I'd rather not," I tell her.

"It doesn't matter," she exclaims. "It never mattered, did it?"

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. I can see my sister's flat eyes when I nod. "No," I agree, and I can feel myself signing my soul away. A pact with the devil, as it were. "It never did."

* * *

**Without further ado.**

**_Tributes_**

**District One Female: Mai Charmaine  
District One Male: Mikhail "Veteran" Hawke**

**District Two Female: Sabine Shais  
District Two Male: Cassius Thorsch **

**District Three Female: Alexandria Crest  
District Three Male: Bolt Manson  
**

**District Four Female: Pristine Silk Prence  
District Four Male: Teren Stark **

**District Five Female: Lilian Alecar  
District Five Male: Axel Shephard  
**

**District Six Female: Kala Steele  
District Six Male: Noah Xander**

**District Seven Female: Sylvia Wilde  
District Seven Male: Aaron Banks**

**District Eight Female: Blye Aldjoy  
District Eight Male: Burn Coile**

**District Nine Female: Essence Rothschild  
District Nine Male: Landon Cayse**

**District Ten Female: Aurelia "Re" Rose  
District Ten Male: Candle Light**

**District Eleven Female: Chiffon Seward  
District Eleven Male: Tucck Coyne**

**District Twelve Female: Hera Slade  
District Twelve Male: Altair Mistral **


	3. District One: Rot and Be Forgotten

**A/N- Yo guys, wasssuppppp?!**

**Weird moment over. So yeah hello, I pulled the short straw as it were and got the first district. I'm not saying I don't like District One and the tributes but I'm so nervous, I don't even know why xD**

**Anyway you get none of the amazing writing of Jay and Ace, only me. So try to live through it. I hope you can!**

**~jakey121**

* * *

**Mai Charmaine**

**District One**

**Written by: jakey121**

* * *

The bricks and metal are in piles set up by the construction workers; their damp hair clinging to their faces with the rain falling from above. Some, mainly the thinner and weaker of the group, are moaning as the rain causes the cement to ruin meaning they have to start again.

I saunter past the first couple of men and even when I pass I can feel their eyes boring into the back of my head, I can even feel some of the more lustful men keeping their gaze permanently fixed on the more southern area of my body.

Those in front have their eyes fixed to my chest and although it isn't classy, I pay no heed to what their eyes seem to be saying and hurry past.

The Peacekeeper in his white uniform has his back to a tall metal pole, a list in his hand and a pen tapping against the bottom of his helmet. He isn't a very intelligent man, preferring brute force to the logic that usually gets you so much further but I've come to like him. He protects the District and maintains the law, which is something I respect and follow. Laws are there for a reason, there is no point in breaking them.

When he looks up the grin that makes nearly every lady swoon creeps along his face and he lowers the pen.

"Mai, how nice to see you."

"What's the list for?" Behind him I can see even more construction workers carrying metal and bricks in large containers. Their faces are puffed up and red. They are getting ready to build some kind of training centre, something the Mayor had promptly passed through the legal system and gotten approved.

"I have to make sure each sector is finally cleared of all the rubble and pathetic wimps who are still crying about these Games President Ocalan has in place. At least this Section seems content."

I take a quick scan of the area but bite my tongue not to mention that the area in fact mainly only constitutes of builders and general admirers of the training centre being put together. He smiles at me, bids me goodbye before walking off and barging into one of the workers for no apparent reason.

Training is a good thing in a sense, it allows people to hone their skills but the real reason behind this training centre isn't what I was raised into. The kids who will be enrolled in these academies will perfect their talents for the Hunger Games. I myself trained because I was a soldier, or at least attempting to become one. The training was my life, strict schedules occupying everything I did until one day, just when I was finally called to assist in the attacks my beloved academy was assaulted.

I made it out in a cloud of smoke and ash, surrounded by the dead or dying. Marcel, he wasn't so fortunate.

Just thinking about him causes a stab of pain in my stomach so I push it away and continue my journey through the District. When I pass people panicking I repress the urge to shout at them. Weaklings, or at least those who are weaker don't abide well with me. Discipline is important, it's what I was raised to believe and those who don't understand why the Hunger Games have been put in place lack what I so seek and thrive upon.

"Please Miss, can you spare any change?"

A ragged old woman with hair falling in greasy lumps down her shoulders falls forwards, her fingers digging into my boots. I kick her away, barely reacting to the sound of her nose snapping. The blood pours in time with the tears that fall from her eyes. When she looks up at me with those puppy-dog eyes, her cheeks bright red I simply laugh.

"Self preservation gets you places my poor deluded fool. Stop groveling and accept the punishment that has been given to you. Or do you want to die?" I smirk at her reaction and carry on my way. The street has now been replaced with burnt down buildings, each doorway filled with those with no place to go.

Dirty blankets are their only shelter and it sickens me to see my beloved home reduced to this. Why on earth did they try to fight back? Why didn't they accept what had been given to them? It is their own fault the Hunger Games have fallen onto their shoulders and years into the future when it is theirs and my own children and grandchildren having to face the Games for a rebellion they never played a part in, we'll weep. I won't. I have my dignity.

The years of training having gone to waste makes me feel ashamed with myself. I never played a part in anything but standing in a hall and swinging around swords and other steel weapons. There was something to come but it never arrived. My friend perished in the rubble and I was left to come back here and carry on living through war.

Perhaps there is a way to gain something out of my training. Why let it go to waste when I can use it?

The Hunger Games is the answer. I ignore the pitiful whines of the hungry and carry on down the road; volunteering in my near future.

* * *

My father and mother stand in the doorway, both with smiles that look out of place on their typically stern faces. My father is a strict man, a military leader who has faced a lot of hardship in his life and receives it still. We were part of the Capitol army and returning to the District didn't sit well with a lot of the residents who had fought against the Capitol.

The Peacekeepers protect us, on order of the mayor who has a soft spot in his heart for war veterans who served the Capitol until their victory was assured. My mother was a medic, between these two it was always difficult to decide which profession to go into. A soldier always seemed the more exciting and I chose that. Now I'm glad I made that decision.

"I can see it in your eyes." My mother finally announces when I lower my lipstick having applied a subtle amount on my lips. I look over at her and smile. These two people deserve all the love and support they can get, and rest assured they'll always have that from me.

The District should respect my parents, yet there are those still begging for their deaths. It's despicable.

"What can you see mother?"

"You're going to volunteer today."

Getting straight to the point has always been something of a tradition with her, and my mouth simply opens and then closes. Will she support me in this? I only decided on this earlier today, there was never really any time to let her know.

"I think it's a great idea. Show the whole of Panem who you are and why you should never be ignored."

"I'm doing it because I don't want my years of training to go to waste. My father and all the other trainers spent a good amount of time training me to serve the Capitol but I never got to the battlefield. I won't let it be in vain."

I stand up and with my left hand brush my hair over my left shoulder. My father simply stares at me and when I hug him his own arms meet together at my back. My mother joins in to, and for a few minutes I simply savour this moment. I'll be back. I'm not going in this for the love of killing children, I'm going because I want to make a name for myself that I never could do during the war.

"It's a great idea. Mai you have our support on this." My father pulls away and kisses me lightly on the cheek.

"You look beautiful today."

I have on the only dress I own. It's a fitting outfit for today, I shall always remain respectful of the reaping day for years to come and this being the first it is only fitting that everyone wears their finest clothing.

"Walk with us to the Square?" My mother asks, tilting her head and smiling at me. I nod and link my arms with theirs. Our house is large, a gift for our loyalty to the Capitol and my heels echo as we head to the door.

The air outside is crisp and fresh. Down the hill however, after the gravel path opens onto the main street you can almost still see the smoke billowing out of the rubble and broken buildings. The homeless even from here are visible and it makes me angry to see the Peacekeepers simply not doing anything.

They should be relocated, we are trying to rebuild our District. These people are simply holding that back.

"It's a beautiful day. Although such an eyesore this all is." My mother says when we reach the main street. Her shoe kicks away a broken brick that must have rolled away from one of the many buildings in ruin. I do my best to avert my eyes from the sidelines and simply keep them focused on the way in front.

"We'll see you in the Justice Building." My father says kissing me on the cheek as my mother pats my hair down slightly.

"Why?"

"To say goodbye darling. You'll be escorted there after the reaping is finished." His smile soothes me and when they walk off the anger at everything around me disappears and I actually feel for the first time in a long time excitement clawing within my stomach. I like it.

"Would you mind moving." I say to the girl in front of me. I mentally note how she has actually made an effort to look presentable so I smile at her but nevertheless still push her away to position myself at the front of the queue.

The Peacekeeper smiles and pricks my finger. I've been trained to resist pain, a simple pinprick won't affect me. My blood is smeared on the paper, the lady scans it and nods at me to move. I graciously obey and allow a Peacekeeper to guide me towards my section. It feels odd being herded all here, as if we were animals but I push these thoughts away. This moment is essential if I am to paint a good picture to the Capitol. They know my father and mother for what they did during the war, now they need to know me.

The Mayor wastes no time in beginning and spends a moment to thank President Ocalan for bringing about these Games. Some nod, some shake their heads but I remain standing still. I agree that the Games are the Districts punishment, whether they are 'fun' I highly doubt it.

"We have the first ever reading of the Treaty of Treason today. Truly a grand occasion." He reads out the words but even I find them tedious. I remain fixated on every word he says but when a woman dressed in what can only be described as a honeybee costume steps onto the stage I can't help but wonder whether or not we're about to have a show put on.

"My name District One is Zara Belle. I am your escort, us escorts are those who carry out the process of the reaping such as the drawing of the names. In the Capitol we help the tributes get ready for everything. We are important people." She giggles and one of her wings seems to flutter as she walks on over to the first reaping bowl.

"Ladies first."

I know the proper and courteous way would be to wait. We know the process of volunteering, we are to wait until asked. I can't see anyone else getting ready to run to the stage so when a name is called out I stand still and look around.

"Any volunteers for our beautiful Maya Poche?"

I thrust my hand in the air and walk confidently out into the central aisle. All eyes are on me as I announce my name and walk up the steps onto the stage. Zara grabs my hand and shakes it, pulling me closer to centre stage.

"Our very first ever volunteer. How do you feel Mai?"

"Proud."

Over the heads of all the gawping district children I see my parents smiling and clapping their hands. Either side of them, people dressed in rags are shaking their heads but my two parents pay them no attention. They aren't alone in their applause, there are other happy adults at the back but my focus is on them.

My district partner is an interesting specimen, but there are no volunteers. My eyes remain stuck on my parents and their proud expressions as Zara turns us to face the open doors of the beast that is the Justice Building.

This it is, it's started. The Capitol now know who I am.

* * *

The chandelier above my head is adorned with rubies, glistening with the light behind each one. The carpet is a shade of red to match the jewels above and the tablecloth placed neatly over the thick black wooden table in the centre is also red.

Such a beautiful place, yet I can't help but feel this all worthless. The journey I have just begun only leads to an Arena where I will be trying to kill twenty three other children. Innocent blood will be spilt and I won't hold back from being the one to spill it. The stages during the Capitol were never really explained, all I know through my parents and their sources is that the tributes are to be shown to the whole of Panem to rack up sponsors. What a sponsor is, and what they are there to do to help I have no idea. I'm sure to find out in the Arena.

I rest my hands neatly on my lap with my back propped up against the ornate chair I am seated on. The door is directly in front of me, after being here for thirty minutes it's a relief to hear muffled voices before the Peacekeeper opens it up and allows my parents to step forward.

My mother walks with open arms and I gladly accept her embrace. Her hair covers my face and the smell of strawberries attacks my sense of smell but I try to take it all in. The Arena is going to be a horrible place, it'll be good to have these certain sentimental things to cling onto, be it an actual material object or the smell of my mother's shampoo.

"We're so proud of you. You're going to make us proud in the Arena I know it." She kisses both of my cheeks and steps back allowing my father to take her place. His cheeks are curved upwards with a smile to match my mother's and he embraces me twice as hard. I feel the breath slowly leaving me and almost feel relieved when he releases me and repeats the two kisses on my cheek my mother had just done.

"We'll be proud no matter what happens. Just remember, you have training and you have the Capitol on your side. There will be uproar if you die."

"I don't want to win based on favoritism."

"Then win for yourself, for us, and for Marcel."

At the mention of his name my fists clench and my heart starts beating twice as hard, like a quickening drumbeat against my ribs. He knows not to mention him, and when he notices my face he apologizes and pulls out a metal chain from his pocket.

"It's his dog tag. The one you rescued before the building collapsed."

I take the cool steel and admire the handiwork. Such a simple thing brings a tear to my eye which I quickly wipe away. I couldn't save my friend, but I could save this. If only the rebels hadn't attacked. I'll never forgive the Districts for that, not even my own District.

"Time's up." The Peacekeeper at the door smiles at my parents, they both kiss me one last time before leaving.

My finger runs along the chain of the dog tag before I place it into my pocket and sit back down on the cushion. No one else comes, not that I expected anything less. I have my parents to remember when I'm in the Arena and just their memory will help, and Marcel's. Always Marcel. When I'm escorted out my hand automatically roots back into my pocket and pulls out his dog tag. For him I'll win. For my parents. For myself.

* * *

**Mikhail "Veteran" Hawke**

**District One**

**Written by: jakey121**

* * *

A whip of cool air sends my hair into disarray as I dive under the table. The wood cracks slightly as my fingers brush against its delicate surface and splinters pierce the scarred skin on my hand but I ignore the pain as I reappear at the other side. The room is dark, the light overhanging flickering on and off and the door stands ajar.

In my hand the empty dusty jar is full of crisp green notes and I grin at the thought of another successful burglary. The owners of this house are fast asleep as I creep out into the night and close the door barely eliciting any noise. The hilltop's grass is dewy and the gravel path kicks up dirt as I hurry down.

The breeze brings tears to my eyes but I ignore what's happening and pick up speed. The black barbed gate barely acts as an obstacle. I grip hold of the jar tightly and with my other hand pull my entire body up the length of the gate. One of the barbs barely grazes my leg as I hop over and land without a single noise on the rocky path below.

Before me the path opens up on the main street, the houses either side still in a state of wear and tear. Blocks of black rock are lumped together and those without a home huddle closer to ensure they lose no warmth to the horrid cold night air. Staring at the homeless brings a state of longing, these are my people… people exactly like me but I divert to a left alley and run through puddles of water dripping from the pipes above.

I pull away the thick white board and enter my house through the hole in the brick wall. It's a dark and dusty place but it's my home. I guess I used to have a home before all this, before war tore apart everything and left me without any parents and no place to live. Instead of the sun the District was forever shrouded in the darkness of ash and smoke as bombs flew down in groups of ten or twenty tearing apart everything we had come to love and cherish.

I was one of the fortunate ones compared to plenty of others. Through the years of war, with this abandoned house as my only refuge I watched others with missing limbs crying for their murdered babies, I saw toddlers explode in a rain of blood and guts as shrapnel tore apart their body. Guns were like toys to the Peacekeepers, be it man woman or child they did not care.

I learnt to stick to the shadows, I still stick to the shadows and that's what has helped me survive.

I place the jar of money under a feathery duvet and sit down with my back against the wall. Cobwebs hang in all four corners, the spiders feasting on the trapped flies without a care in the world. They have it easy in life now, we're the ones who suffer. The rebellion may be over but with a Capitol victory it's only ensured a harder life than we had before. And now… now we have these Hunger Games to live with. The very thought of twenty four children competing to kill one another sickens me. We fought to bring down the Capitol because we knew what they were like, this 'show' only emphasizes the evil deep within this system. Corruption is everywhere.

A light hovers over the window and trails across my arms before disappearing again up the street. The puckered flesh of multiple scars draws my thoughts away from the Capitol and to my accident.

Stealing was and remains my only way of surviving. There were still those even whilst the war ravaged Panem who lived in luxury in this district. They were veterans of the Capitol, loyal supporters who were against the Districts. Even now there are still the rich with everything us stuck in poverty could only dream of. The scars tingle when I picture the explosion that had happened behind me as I left a particularly rich and expensive house. The war splintered on impact, brick becoming nothing but shards as a fire broke out amongst the rubble. My back, arms and even my right eye were shredded in the attack. I walked in the house, a boy desperate for survival and left a man. These scars remind me of what's happened, I have my parents' death to consider but I never knew them properly. I can't even remember their names.

Another light flashes over the window followed by more. An army of Peacekeepers consisting of what must be twenty or thirty men in white stomp past with their guns raised up to their shoulders. I duck as quickly as I can and finally the sound of their boots hitting the concrete street disappears into the distance. It's common now for the Peacekeepers to march on regular patrols, we've started one rebellion and only lost not that long ago. They say it's to keep us all safe, but seeing them shoot innocents just for the sake of it, it's hard to believe it's only to keep us safe.

My eyes start to flutter shut and I grab the jar and bring it close to my chest. This is all I have now, the items I steal, the clothes on my back, this house, my scars and the memory of my parents. The Capitol took it all away, and today they're about to take a whole lot more from us.

* * *

The sun is high up in the sky, the light blinding me as I stand up and pull my coat over my arms. It's good to see the sun again. Whilst the wars were going on all around it was difficult to see anything in the sky except the thick clouds of smoke that rose nonstop into the air from the burning buildings. The fires were our source of light and heat, within the flames families were charred black but that didn't stop us all from using the fires ravaging their bodies to ensure our own survival.

I feel ashamed of what I've done to survive, what I still do to survive and what I no doubt will continue to do into the future but it's necessary. My parents were always pacifists, they taught me never to use violence and so far I've never been caught on one of my robberies so I've never had to attack a Peacekeeper to get away but I can't abide by their rules. It's survival of the fittest on the streets of District One. Even the Peacekeepers aren't guaranteed safety, they travel in their packs to ensure they remain together and are ready to protect one another.

But there's no denying the resentment that runs through us lower class folk towards these supposed keepers of peace. If one strays to far from the 'pack' or even dares to go out by themselves they are mobbed, brought down in a flurry of kicks and punches and the majority of the time killed and left bloody on the ground, their boots, helmet and warm uniform stripped and given out.

I've never joined in those vicious attacks, from my place in the shadows away from the eyes of everyone I can stand idly by without any threat from an attack and see everything unfold. Sometimes a group of Peacekeepers appears almost instantly and the attacking District citizens are killed in a rain of bullets, other times the Peacekeeper doesn't die but is left with injuries too gruesome to look at. It's always best for me to stay out of sight, and most of the time it works. Some people know me around, especially those like me and who were there to witness me leave the explosion with my life, something not many people can say for themselves. They call me 'Veteran', as if I was some veteran of war for avoiding death and leaving with scars they believe to be battle scars.

The light blinds me for a few seconds as I open the door. It's a nice nickname but something I'm not too fond of, everyone knows it even the Peacekeepers and having a reputation won't do me any good. At least a face and a name haven't been given to the Peacekeepers about the thief who keeps stealing. Rest assured, my identity as the one who does all the robberies is safe for now. How long that'll last I have no idea.

I use the alleyway I used earlier this morning to make my way onto the main street. Those hiding in their little shelters come out into the light and like me cover their eyes to avoid the sun's rays. The main street is crowded, those in rags sticking together, those in their silks and fine clothing together and the Peacekeepers bunching together. There's a rift in the District between the poor and the rich but most hold a mutual resentment towards the Capitol and the Peacekeepers even if some have money.

Still, I barely can hide my disgust as I join the large sea of people at the sight of a rich man scoffing at the street around us. A small little man with clothes hanging in tatters smiles at me as I pass him, I nod in his direction but don't try to say anything. I stick out because of my scars and my singed hair but no one bothers to stop me from pushing through the crowds to get to the Square quickly. The sooner this reaping is over the better.

The crowd splits off to separate queues, I find myself at the front rather quickly and the Peacekeeper pulls forward my hand and without even saying anything sticks a needle in my finger. I wince and stop myself from yelling out as she wipes my blood across the page. Another man in white guides me to my section and as luck would have it I find myself shoved between two of the rich kids. One with his hair gelled back and sporting a heavy black blazer and white bow tie smirks at his friend at the sight of me and I feel my fingers clench into fists and unclench.

The other boy smiles but the three of us and everyone else all stop to turn to the mayor as he walks onto stage. I really can't stand this man, he supports the Capitol and as he welcomes us all he even has the audacity in the face of those who have lost so much to praise The Hunger Games, the President and everyone who supports our oh so glorious city for what they have done for Panem.

A treaty is read out but I zone out, only picking up on certain words that cause a deep anger to start writhing inside of me. When the sound of high heels clacking against the stage replaces the deep voice of the mayor I look up at the face of a grotesque looking woman. She calls herself an escort, and what makes her even worse is that she actually looks over the moon at being the one to pick the names of the two unlucky kids standing here.

"Ladies first!" Her voice sends a shiver down my spine. I'll forever despise that thick Capitol accent.

A name is called out and I'm thankful that I don't recognize it. There's no family or friends for me here anymore but I've learnt names of those living like me, when I see the pink frilly dress I'm actually happy it's one of them. She doesn't stand there for very long, another girl with long chestnut coloured hand strides down the central aisle and volunteers. I can tell she's rich by her dress and the ways she holds herself. It's odd to see someone so willingly wish away their lives, volunteering seems utterly stupid but she seems strong. Maybe she can win.

"Now for the boys!"

Her hand swirls around the sea of white slips. Her fingers clasp around one of them, she pulls it out, unfolds it and clearly reads out the name:

"Mikhail Hawke!"

"Not Veteran!"

The sound of someone shouting out my nickname draws my attention and everything turns to a blur. The rich kid next to me pushes me out into the aisle and I walk up the stage. My legs feel like lead weights, each step a fight but I make it up somehow and stand next to Mai.

"Our tributes for District One. Mai Charmaine and Mikhail Hawke!"

There are no volunteers for me. She turns us round and guides us into the Justice Building. I'm dead. I know it. Maybe I can survive here, but in an Arena where the Capitol will have an eye on me every second of every hour I don't stand a chance. The shadows can't help me.

* * *

I'd be able to acknowledge the beauty of such a room like the one I find myself in right now if it wasn't for the reason behind me being here. I know I'm strong, I know I have survival instincts and I know I could use my stealth that I have used for so many years to my advantage. But these are the first ever Hunger Games… I'm not still not entirely sure what they entail but all I know that an idea by President Ocalan is never good and the speech she gave, the one I watched in the Square as the dead bodies were burnt I knew this was her worst by far.

Something starts to twist and turn through my stomach and what escapes through my mouth as I squirm in the thick leather chair is something I haven't done in a while. I cry. No tears start to fall to begin with, I'm not a crying sort of guy. As far as I know I didn't even cry when my parents were killed by an attack carried through by the Capitol, but after the incoherent noises pierce through my lips the hot tears start to fall and it's an impossible battle to try to stop them.

I keep my wet and blurry eyes fixed onto the clock hanging above a beautiful watercolour painting of the Capitol. Even I can't deny the beauty of the city and I am actually on my way to see it for myself. The thought both excites me to the point the tears stop for a few seconds, before the anger at what the Capitol is like makes the tears fall again.

My fist connects with the wall only an arm's length away but I would never put it pass the Capitol to ensure the building was inlaid with some kind of metal. It feels as if my fingers are broken, when I pull away not even a dent has been left in the coloured wall but I can tell my hand is going to bruise whether or not a bone is broken.

Through the wall even from my position in the chair I can hear muffled voices. Mai is talking with someone, the thought of that brings an unwanted feeling of jealousy to wash through me. I know no one is coming, I'm glad for the solitude but to know she has family still around, and no doubt some friends at least who aren't like the 'friends' I have it makes it impossible not to feel envious.

The clock hands whizz by, I wish time could just freeze forever. Leaving me alone in this room without having to worry about The Hunger Games and the sickening end I am no doubt going to experience. I don't know how this thing is going to go except 24 of us, 24 children of the Districts are going to go into the Arena and only one will come out alive. The others, and most definitely myself will leave in a wooden box. Do we return here? Or are we forever left in the underground facilities of the Capitol to rot and be forgotten.

I barely even hear the door open, and when the tears finally stop falling a hand clamps over my shoulder and the Peacekeeper pulls me up. Underneath his visor I can see the sickening smile on his face, I don't say or do anything. I let him guide me down the corridor, out the doors to the blinding sun and towards the train.

Mai joins me about halfway down the gravel path, she barely even bothers to pay me any attention. I'm really going to the Capitol right now. I really am about to see the city that has done this to us all. I'm going to my death.

* * *

**Oh hey. Didn't see you there.**

**This be Jayfish, just telling you guys that the tribute list is on the previous chapter, go there to see which tributes got in, what district they're in, etc. Some spots (D1 female, D2 male) had a ton of applicants, so we're sorry if you didn't get the spot you wanted!_  
_**

**See ya later :)**

**~Jayfish**


	4. District Two: According to Plan

**A/N- Howdy, it's me again here with District Two!**

**Thanks for all your reviews on District One and I hope you like my take on these two tributes! :D**

**~ Jake**

* * *

**Sabine Shais**

**District Two**

**Written by: jakey121**

* * *

My high heels tap against the cobbled road, earning me looks from those working late into the morning. Above me the moon shines bright between two thick grey clouds and stars pepper the night sky. I can tell it is going to rain soon so I pick up the lower half of my dress that is dragging behind and quickly slip out of my high heels and use my right hand to carry them as I start to run. Where I am headed and what I am about to do disgusts me but it's necessary.

I veer off down an alleyway, dodging the thick drops of water that splatter down from the pipes above and finally reach the base of a hill.

Behind me District Two is still recuperating from the war but in front it looks like paradise. The road is paved with marble and goes up on a slope. The road winds this way and that around the hill until situated on the summit is the largest mansion in the whole District. Hedges of a variety of different animals line the way up as I begin the ascent upwards.

The mansion belongs to none other than Mr Tetherton. The fat old man is a Capitol man, we all know that but pretends to have District Two's best interests at heart. Well I am prepared to squeeze that heart until he gives me what I need. I'm built to run fast so it doesn't take me long to reach halfway up the hill. Just looking around at all this beauty angers me till I feel my face warm up.

The Districts were bombed and left in a sea of ash whilst the Capitol gets to indulge in everything that they took away from us. No one knows that I was born and raised in District Thirteen, moved here when my parents were taken away and pronounced dead years later and then attempted to go back.

The face of a girl with blonde ringlets and innocent blue eyes flashes into mind but I shake my head, the cool wind stabbing into my cheeks as I do so.

No… I cannot think about her.

A car is parked out by the fountain when I finally reach the top. The mansion is even more impressive up close, I grasp the lion knocker on the wooden door and tap it three times against the wood and quickly slip into my high heels and let go of my dress. I pat it down just as there's a click from inside and the door opens slowly.

Mr Tetherton stands in the doorway with that sickening and perverted grin on his face. He's not too bad to look at except for the giant gut that sticks out over his belt. He's wearing a suit of the darkest black I've ever seen, darker than the nights when the sun was blotted out by smoke, and invites me in with a stroke to the arm.

It sends a shiver down my spine but I push it away and smile at him.

"You are very kind sir."

"Oh please Sabine my dear. No sirs here, call my Afray."

The entrance hall is impressive, I can barely see the top as it's covered in a diamond chandelier that sends a river of light through the air. I feel Afray's hand on my shoulder and repress the urge to slap him away. This is necessary; but not for long.

He knows information I need, information the District needs. The Hunger Games that have been put in place are an air of mystery, the only thing we know is that 24 go in and 1 goes out and today I have been chosen to volunteer. I don't feel scared about it, I just need to know more to benefit myself and the District's future. Mr Tetherton is my only chance.

"Such a wonderful house Afray."

"Thank you Sabine, it is rather splendid I grant you that. Let me escort you upstairs, I cannot wait to get… how do you say; down to business." He winks at me and I feel sick rise from my stomach. The thought of sleeping with a fat oaf like him makes me want to run away but I won't have to do the actual deed, just until I get the information.

"Of course Afray. Don't worry, I've proved very satisfying before."

His eyes linger on my chest before he grasps my arm lightly and guides me up the stairs. His bedroom is of course the master room of the house, a four poster bed sits in the centre and I step forward and sit on the edge. He sits next to me and places a cold hand on my knee, thank god I didn't wear a skirt.

"Shall we begin?" Pure lust has overtaken his voice now and he pulls me forward and places a light kiss on my lips. When he pulls away I receive the full effect of his rancid breath but smile at him and peck his cheek.

"A man like you, so powerful, so tempting." I trace my fingers up his arm and stroke his jawline. "You're a match even for President Ocalan."

"That woman, oh how glorious she is."

Bingo.

"I must say she is full of glorious ideas. The Hunger Games are a favourite of mine, the reaping is today you know?"

"Oh yes, I cannot wait. These tributes have no idea what the President has in store for them. I am a close and personal friend to Miss Ocalan did you know?"

"How…. sexy." I kiss him once more before I run my hand up his leg.

"What does the President have in store for them?"

"Horrors. Murder, a Cornucopia full of goods, mutated creatures. It's all so wonderful."

Cornucopia? Mutated creatures? How the hell can she support something like this… and today I am going to be willingly volunteering to take part.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"The information."

I pull the knife from the strap to my thigh and before he can kiss me again I plunge it into his throat and yank it out. A shower of blood sprays towards me but I roll forwards, only receiving a small amount of the sickly fluid onto my skin. I place the knife back in the strap and leave as quickly as possible. It's not perfect information, the District won't benefit from it but I will. At least I'll be aware that within the Arena I won't just have to worry about the tributes. Mutated creatures? President Ocalan really is sick.

* * *

My hand slides along the wood of the wardrobe before my fingers clasp around the handle. I throw it open to be welcomed to the sight of the only fancy dresses I own in the world. We've been told to ensure we dress formally for the occasion, especially me since everyone knows I am to volunteer. The first dress is a silky blue thing with glitter traced along the edges, but I quickly push that aside and pull out a low cut, chest hugging yellow dress that certainly fits the part. A small compartment in the base of my wardrobe clicks open with the press of a tiny concealed button on the side of my wardrobe and I hide the bloody knife there before closing it back up again. I can't have people realizing what I've done, I've never been found out by anyone who could put my life in danger. I am the best of the best, and I know it and so does everyone else.

The dress fits comfortably against my skin, the end just coming to the mid section of my thighs. My other dress with blood lightly showered across the back I tuck away in another hidden compartment and finally at the sound of a knock on my door I close the wardrobe and turn around with a smile.

"Come in."

The door creaks open and the face I see is none other than Cindi, the girl who shares this side of the child's centre. Tradition states that at eighteen you are expected to move out, but the owner is one of the countless rebels still within our community and allows me to stay knowing what I do to help the District. She's a stern woman, but behind closed doors she is lovely to me.

"Did you hear? Oh my god did you hear?" Cindi jumps up and twirls in the air with a smile on her face to match any little child's. Her blonde hair for almost a second reminds me of _her _but I get a good look at her green eyes and the thought immediately leaves my mind. Cindi doesn't look like _her_ in the slightest… stop worrying.

"Cindi calm down." I grab her shoulder and push her down so her feet halt on the wooden floor. She looks up at me with big eyes that still scream of her happiness and she nods, biting her lip.

"Did I hear what?" Behind her I hear shouting coming from one of the little boys as one of the workers tries to chase after him. They don't like to be ordered around, not since their parents were murdered by the Capitol, who could blame them.

"Mr Tetherton was found dead this morning. It's all over the District. Finally that pervert has got what he deserved."

I smile, but inside my stomach twists. No one should have found him until after I was gone, I left no evidence I never do but if they were to find out somehow… I won't make it out of here before I'm caught. My smile betrays the inner anxiety writhing inside, but Cindi smiles again and I feel her shoulder start to move upwards as if she was attempting to jump again.

"That's great news."

"It really is, no one ever liked him! Anyway we should go, people have already started to leave to make their way to the Square. I know you've been chosen, you can't be late." Her hand clenches round my wrist and she drags me out through the door, down the hallway and past other children who stare at me as I go. There's no denying the power that goes alongside my presence. People here hate the Capitol as much as I do. We're all orphans because of the bullets and bombs and there's no going back on the hatred we hold towards our 'leaders'. That's why they all look at me with awe, that's why I have to be their hero in this Arena and come back to help them. They need me as I need their support. It shouldn't be so hard these Games, I've been trained to fight and that's all this is right… a big fight. Although those mutated creatures might prove a problem.

The Square is only a few minutes walk from the child's centre. Cindi has her arm linked with my own. Seeing everyone stare at me, even those who do not know me unsettles me but I do my best to avert my eyes from staring back. These are not my enemies, I bare them no ill will. It's the Capitol I shall fight to my last breath, these people here have seen what they do and need revenge. I shall be their hero.

"We've got to sign in." Cindi says guiding me to the first line closest to us. The whole process is rather quick, I give the Peacekeeper the harshest gaze I can muster as he pierces my skin with the needle but I hurry on forwards with Cindi and take my place in the section nearest to the back.

Other girls smile at me, others nod in my direction from other sections. I have their respect, everyone's respect. This is all going according to plan.

Mayor Revelda takes her place on stage, her air of superiority mixed in with the fear the younger children seem to hold towards her. There is no cunning smile on her face, the news of Mr Tetherton must have reached her too. I don't take pride in murder for my information but it is necessary, I could not have him mouthing off about me to others, it arouses suspicion and suspicion gets you killed.

Another twenty or so minutes pass with the reading of a treaty. It's full of Capitol propaganda from the first word to the last. The next woman to walk on stage causes laughter to fill the air from those young enough to believe this woman is anything but a vile villain. She may look like a naïve simpleton with her precious sea blue wig, but I know what hidden evil lies in that skull of hers.

"Ladies first is the tradition set for these reapings. Oh the first ever female tribute from District Two. I can hardly wait!"

Cindi looks at me as the name of a girl in our very own section is called out. Her brown eyes meet my own as she steps out but I let her step only another two steps more before I thrust my hand in the air.

"I volunteer to take the place of Martina!" The escort and everyone else stares at me. As I walk some brush their hands against my arms and murmur words of good luck and praise. It makes me feel good to have all this admiration, all I do I do for them, we may have lost but the fight will never go out from my heart, these Hunger Games are only the beginning of what I have in store to show the Capitol.

"How lovely, what's your name?"

"Sabine Shais."

She looks away the second I finish speaking to her and struts over to the male reaping bowl. A name I do not recognize is called forward. The male tribute looks strong and able. Maybe he will prove difficult but even he must know that I am here to help the District, of course that won't matter in the slightest to him. He's a Peacekeeper.

He looks me up and down before joining me on the other side of the escort.

"Our tributes; Sabine Shais and Cassius Thorsch!"

She places her hands on our back and guides us towards the Justice Building. Cassius must know what my goal here is, I am not volunteering because I like to kill, or for the glory that the President said the Victor shall receive. We are at war no matter what the Capitol says, a war that will never stop. And we will win. I shall make sure of it.

* * *

Marley... she had been so beautiful, so innocent.

I've only been here twenty minutes, alone and my thoughts have wandered back to Marley. Her blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. My only friend some say. I've always tried to muster up a friendship to the degree I shared with her, but even with Cindi it hasn't been the same. I watched Marley burn to ash and as the wind carried her through the air it brushed against my skin. I inhaled the ashes of my best friend. The thought makes me gag and I bury my head in my hands. She didn't deserve to die. No one who died in the war deserved to die except for those who fought for the Capitol. The city needs to be brought to dust so Panem can be whole again. I need to do this.

Through the bright red wood of the door I hear muffled speaking followed by the Peacekeeper opening the door to allow Cindi and Ms Asher the owner of the child's centre into the room. He looks at their backs with disgust but when his eyes meet my own he looks away and slams the door shut.

Ms Asher's grey hair frames a pretty face despite the wrinkles tightening her skin. Cindi smiles and pulls one of the chairs round the table to sit next to me. Ms Asher does the same and grabs one of my hands, a bony finger stroking across my skin.

"Sabine. I know the pressure is piling on you, and I know you can handle it. But this isn't some game that you can win without pain and hardship. You've lost so much, just… please win."

A tear trickles down her cheek and I can't help but feel my heart break for this woman. She's done so much for me, so much to help me worm my way into the lives of those who hold the key to what I need. I have to return for her.

"Ms Asher don't worry. I'm here for a purpose that is too important to crumble into nothing. I will win. Have you got the mirror?"

She nods and looks over at Cindi who smiles and pulls out from her pocket the small golden compact that belonged to Marley. The gold has many intricate carvings covering the lid, I open it up and close it again.

"Is it ready?"

Both of them nod and I smile and allow them to hug me. Hidden deep under three thin layers is the camera I need, the one thing that will help achieve my goal. From the moment I step on the train I shall activate it, it's more of a voice recorder than anything. It'll be far too obvious holding it up to video record everything going on around me. And once I set foot in the Arena, as the tributes start to fall this mirror will capture everything and they shall not be forgotten like the Capitol wants them to be.

The President is issuing a warning with these Games and I intend to reduce it to nothing but ash. This mirror is only the first step towards the destruction of the Capitol.

They leave when the Peacekeeper calls for them through the door. I have no more visitors as the minutes go by. He has a firm grip on my shoulder as he leads me to the train but I don't struggle. He works for them but he's only doing what is necessary to survive, like I do, like we all do. It's the Capitol in the wrong and today is where it all begins. I turn the mirror on and step onto the train.

* * *

**Cassius "Cassie" Thorsch**

**District Two**

**Written by: jakey121**

* * *

A loud bell rings throughout the entire building nearly tearing my ears apart. My locker door vibrates with the sheer force behind the noise and I grit my teeth to stop myself from yelling out. It seems like hours before it ends but it must have only been thirty seconds to a minute. My clothes are folded as neatly as I possibly could make them so I put them far back in my locker and lock the door shut.

No one else is around in this room with me which I can't help but be grateful for. Company is something I'm not too good at these days and besides the people I find myself with I can't trust despite whether or not they have a smile or a frown. Each person has hidden thought processes, a smile could easily be a way of masking some true evil and I just don't see myself being able to put up with it anymore.

I pat down the white trousers I am wearing and grab the Peacekeeper helmet from the bench just below the high row of lockers. It's a heavy thing and definitely uncomfortable but rules are rules so I adjust it so it fits under my shoulder and step out of the room.

There's no one else here either but I can hear footsteps dying off as people head towards the main hall. Today despite it being reaping day we're to be allocated another District to be assigned to in a few days time. I for one am dreading going, a child without the harsh reality of the world we live in would believe going to the other Districts is an adventure; a great game to be played but I've seen what it's like and those children are kidding themselves.

When you're stuck in the middle of war, trying to fight for the Capitol but seeing all your friends die around you, shot down by rebels as they try to protect themselves and their comrades you change. I no longer support the Capitol or the Districts. Both are at fault, but I'm not stupid. I know what it means to betray the Capitol and I may have seen death, I may get depressed reminiscing over what has happened but I have no death wish. I'm here to serve as a Peacekeeper, it's what I must do.

I slip slightly despite the grip on my boots on the newly polished floors but I use my hands to steady myself against the walls either side of me. The hall is only a left turn away, someone shoots ahead in front of me not paying attention to the fact their helmet just slipped from under their shoulder and enters the large hall.

I step forward through the opening from the corridor into the giant hall. The walls spread far back and lights in rectangular blocks of metal are equally spaced apart on the ceiling. The floor is green and rock hard. If you fall you get hurt, it's a message to say what happens if you fall in the Districts. There are no mats or sponge to protect you over there, only a bullet to pierce through your skull.

The others are already in a row in front of our Unit Leader for this sector of the District. There are various Peacekeeper Bases spread across District Two and I am a part of the elite.

"It's reaping day today-" he says as I slip into the line- "there is a chance of uproar from those who hate the Capitol and hate these Hunger Games. Be on the look out for any disruptive behavior and don't be afraid to use your fists or the butt of your guns. No live ammunition unless the lives of yourself, your comrades or a high percentage of District citizens are at risk."

We all say 'yes sir' in unison and he pulls out a list from the back pocket of his Peacekeeper uniform.

Someone down the line looks over at me and smiles, one of the friendlier still stuck in that childish mindset that it's all fun and games. My face remains neutral, the idiot deserves a reality check but he'll get that with the District he is assigned to, I wouldn't be surprised if next time we are called back to Two I don't see him anymore and instead I hear his name on a list of the dead.

"In four days time, after the District calms down over the reaping and people settle back into daily routine you will all be taken via hovercraft to your assigned District where you will serve until the Unit Leader sees fit that you should return here. The rebels are still strong, just somewhat in hiding so don't be so foolish as to believe things have died down." I look over at the guy with the smile and am pleased to see it's been wiped off his face. I've seen what happens, I've seen my friends perish on the fields over in District 11. I just hope I don't get sent back there. Anywhere but there.

"You could be there for a few months or up to a few years it all depends on your duties assigned by the Unit Leader. You are the elite, some of the best we have here I believe in you to carry out what must be done to keep the peace of Panem. Now for your assigned Districts."

"April, Brackus. District One."

He continues down the list, the guy who had been smiling receiving District Twelve which doesn't seem to go well with him until he lands on my name.

"Thorsch, Cassius. District Eight."

Eight?

That's just textiles right? I've heard it was rather bad during the war but has calmed down somewhat now the rebels lost. I nod and want to thank the Unit Leader… I don't normally like to talk to him unless essential but I'm not going to Eleven. Thank god, I'm not going back there.

He dismisses us all and I get changed back in the clothes from my locker. The reaping may be today, the Hunger Games may be a disgusting way of punishing the Districts but my assigned District shouldn't be so bad. I leave with half a smile on my face.

* * *

His bony hand clasps mine and as much as I want to pull away I allow him this closeness. His breaths come out sharp and the pain is clearly etched in his face as he moves himself up against the headboard to an upright position. My father's face is covered with wrinkles, his dark hair is thinning and his once lively blue eyes are framed with bags of the deepest blues and purples.

He's ill, extremely ill and bedridden yet he likes to think himself as tough as he was in his youth. My mother and I allow him this delusion, we allow him to have some control over the family and its income despite the fact it truly falls to my mother to handle such things.

"Cassie. What District do you have?"

He's always supported me as a Peacekeeper, a strict Capitol loyalist my father is. The day I was taken on board as a Peacekeeper was his proudest moment he keeps telling me. I don't know how to feel anymore to that. Whether I am happy to make him proud I don't know, most of the time it just feels numb.

"Eight father."

"I remember Eight in my day. The skies were packed full of the smoke from those awful factories. It's a disgusting place it really is but I know you'll do your duty well. You always do." The wrinkles in his cheeks stretch upwards as he gives me a weak smile and I half heartedly mirror it to lighten his spirits.

"I'm sure they would be proud of you Cassie."

His eyes are lit up to match the smile but my own vanishes from my face. I know they'd be proud of me, yet to know they are gone still hurts. In Eleven I lost the people most important to me except for my parents. Septimus shot by a rebel in a fight for his gun, two months later Secundus was the worst of them all. The stench of his dismembered body as it lay rotting in the District Square still brings a tear to my eye as the smell comes back to me. That was the worst way to go. Max was more a mentor than a friend but I still miss him equally, he was in my arms the day the rogue bullet found him and I hadn't even realized he was dead straight away.

I lost three important people in my life in Eleven and countless other Peacekeepers I'd come to know and work with over my time. Eight won't be as hard, the war is over and those assigned alongside me I have rarely spoken with. It won't be difficult.

"I know father. Where's mother?"

"Livia is at work as usual. I'm glad she took after me when I got told I could never leave this god awful bed." His face shows the anger and self loathing if only for an instant before he smiles again. My father has always been a hard working man, maybe it's for the best the District doesn't get their hands on him because he supports the Capitol but he doesn't deserve to not be out there with the fresh air on his face. Life is just is a story from beginning to end of unfair treatment; I've come to know this very well.

"I must go now to the Square for the reaping. I'll return home for a bit just to check on you."

"Check on me. Now who sounds like the father?" He chuckles and releases my hand. I turn to go at the sound of his goodbye and leave through the door of our reasonably large house. My Peacekeeper uniform earns me looks of distaste and hatred from those who fought for the Districts but I keep my eyes in front and join two others my age. It's always safer to travel with other Peacekeepers.

"We're to walk the sidelines and make sure nothing happens. At least we're not stuck on the desks." One of them taps the desk as we pass. We're not required to sign in like the others, it wouldn't have bothered me if I would have had to. Doesn't make a difference.

The children eligible for the first Hunger Games are herded like cattle into their sections and soon enough the place is full to the brim. Those on the sidelines eye me and my fellow two Peacekeepers with disgust. They can't get to the Capitol directly so they take it out on the next best thing. Us.

Soon the Mayor is on the stage and I'm grateful to be patrolling round the Square with my focus on other things because the snippets I pick up on of the treaty sound incredibly dull. The Capitol are not in the right, but neither are the Districts. The rebels were savages, the Capitol may be more refined but it's still a city that embodies pure evil. Panem will never be at peace.

The next woman on stage causes laughter from some of the younger kids. I look over at a Peacekeeper who is patrolling nearby and see him shush the younger kids. They silence instantly. We are feared by the young and hated by the old. The only people who like us are those on our side. I wonder what District Eight is like.

A girl is called forwards and I see her step out of a section from the back. No one seems sad for this girl, not even the girl herself. I don't understand why but before I can even question it another girl steps forward and walks confidently up to the stage.

I recognize her immediately. Sabine Shais is well known for her deeds on the District side, she's well loved by everyone who fought for the rebels and well hated by everyone else except for the people who buy her. It's disgusting she sells herself, but why for I have no idea.

"Did you hear about Mr Tetherton?"

I turn to the Peacekeeper next to me and shake my head. Mr Tetherton? That perverted creep.

"What about him."

"He's-"

"Cassius Thorsch!"

"-Dead."

I halt exactly where I stand, the other two not registering what just happened until they look back to see me frozen in place.

I was reaped? Me… a Peacekeeper, I didn't think that was allowed, that's why I never bothered to worry. I try not to show any of the fear that tugs at my heart, sure I've had training but this is something else entirely. I walk up to the stage, ignoring the whispers that travel across the Square. I can't pretend to not see the smiles on some of the more rebellious people in the Square. Of course they're happy to see me go. I'm a Peacekeeper.

Sabine eyes me up and down before the reaping comes to an end and I'm taken to the Justice Building.

A Peacekeeper in the very first Hunger Games. I bet the Capitol will love this and love my brutal murder even more.

* * *

The Peacekeeper outside ironically is the guy who was smiling earlier in the hall. The smile is still on his face as I pass him and he grants me entry into the room.

"I'm sorry."

Even if the situation is tragic the smile hasn't left his face. Is he happy I'm gone? Or just stupid? Either way I don't pay him anymore attention and take a seat in the largest armchair in the room. Dotted around the walls are pictures of certain people from the Capitol who are of importance and of course the largest picture of them all is President Ocalan, her blood red lips as bright as ever.

I'd find her attractive if it wasn't for the hatred that twists inside my stomach at the sight of her. I would have supported her once, but the war changed me and changed so many others. I wonder if any of the other Peacekeepers are like me? Feigning their loyalty because they know desertion equates to execution. I've seen Peacekeepers leave before but they never get very far. Depending on who their Unit Leader is they die in a hundred different ways.

Some are shot on the spot the second they leave. Others are ordered to trial by more merciful and just Unit Leaders but are still sentenced to death and are either beheaded, hung or once I saw a man get his arms and legs cut off before finally he was disemboweled. I've seen so many horrors it's hard to count them all.

I'm not entirely sure how long I stay seated in the chair before the door opens and my mother walks in. Her face is blank, neither a frown nor a smile has taken a hold of her lips. She pulls up a chair in silence and sits right in front of me. Still without saying anything she leans forward and kisses me on the forehead.

"I wish your father could come and say goodbye."

"It's alright. Tell him I said goodbye."

She nods and grabs hold of my hand. I've never been exceptionally close to my mother, but I still love her even if I never voice it out loud or show it rarely. I'll miss her, I hope I get to see her again.

"Have you got a token? The tributes are allowed one."

Tributes…

I don't like that I am now classed as a tribute. Am I not a Peacekeeper anymore because of a simple drawing of my name from a glass bowl? Of course not, I won't be recognized in the Capitol as a Peacekeeper they will all call me a tribute from District Two. From the moment I step foot in the city to the moment I perish in the Arena they have planned, I'll never escape this title I have just received.

"I'll use my Peacekeeper badge."

The thought comes to my head instantly. They want to strip me of everything I once was what better way to stick to what I was before I was reaped by using my badge as a token. I smile as I unclip it from my chest and hold it out to my mother.

"It's a perfect idea. I'll miss you Cassius. Try to come home."

We hug, it feels odd but also comforting. I can't remember the last time I hugged her. I'm only eighteen, I seem to forget that as well. I'm still a teenager, I've just had to mature because the world around me demanded it.

"It's time for you to go." The Peacekeeper at the door says. He nods when he catches my eyes and the smile has once again gone. Maybe he does actually feel sorry for me.

"Goodbye Cassius." She squeezes my hand before leaving through the door. Another half an hour passes by before I'm escorted out. The other Peacekeeper tries to make conversation but I'm not in the right mood to be talking. I rarely ever am these days.

Sabine joins me as we walk to the train but I do my best to ignore her as well. From here on out it's my own survival that matters the most, not anyone else's. I survived the war in Eleven, I can survive this as well.

It's just another fight, and fights I've had plenty.


End file.
